In visions of acid we saw through delusion andBrainbox pollution,We knew we were right.The streets were our oyster, we smoked urbanPoison and we turned all this noise on,We knew how to fight.We dropped out and tuned in, spoke secretJargon and we would not bargain for whatWe had found in the days of the underground.We believed in Guevera, we saw that head held upAnd our anger welled up,But we kept it cool.No need for machine guns 'cause the system wasCrumbling, our leaders were fumbling,While we broke every rule.We saw them on T.V. they'd blown their cover and weTried to smother their voicesWith sound, in the days of the underground.Whatever happened to those chromium heroes, areThere none of them still left around, sinceThe days of the underground?Now we can look back at the heroes we were then,We made quite a stir with our sonic attack,Street-fighting dancers, the assassins ofSilence, with make-believe violence, on a hundredWatt stack.They offered us contracts, we said "we don'tNeed 'em", we'll just take our freedom and willNot be bound in the days of the underground.And some of us made it but not smiling Michael,His black motorcycle got eaten by rust.And John the Bog dreamt that he slept at theWheel, but when he woke it was real, too lateTo have sussed.And Jeff was a poet who wrote with a sprayCan on walls,Saying "Hey man, I believe that we've drowned"In the days of the underground.